Dark Shadows: Speaker of the Naga
by IBarnabas
Summary: Burke Devlin lies awake in his hotel room, waiting for the morning to come to board his flight to South America. As he tosses and turns, he reflects on his time in prison and the event that happened six years ago that earned his freedom and fortune. The letter he holds tells him that his payment is due. His mind drifts, remembering the mysterious man who visited him that night...
1. Chapter 1

Dark Shadows: Speaker of the Naga (Prologue/Act I)

PROLOGUE

"The time has come for your tribute, Burke, as per our agreement. A large fortune awaits you, old friend. I will see you there in Brazil when you arrive. It's just a matter of time, my friend. It's just a matter of time..." signed, Dameon Edwards.

Burke lay on top of his bed with his tie loosened and hanging from his collar. In one hand, he was holding a cigarette. In the other, he held a strange letter that he found on his office doorstep a week prior. He sat up, pressed his cigarette firmly in the ashtray on his night stand, and reached for the nearly empty glass of scotch and water. As the ice cubes clinked together while he downed the last sip, his mind began to wander. So many words ran through his mind.

He thought of his fiancée, Victoria, and how she was worried about this particular business trip. He brushed his lips with his fingers, reminiscing the soft press of her lips on his before he said goodbye. He had gone on business trips before, but this one was unsettling. Not so much because of the letter he was holding, but because of the cryptic warning that the boy, David Collins, had given him.

Little "Davey" had become his best friend and pal since he returned to Collinsport, and he loved him as his own son. In the months that he had been there in town, he had been more of a father to David than his actual father, Roger Collins, had ever been in his eight years.

David held tightly to him as he was leaving Collinwood, and said aloud that he had the feeling that he wasn't coming back. As hard as it was to reassure David and Victoria that he would return shortly, he found it difficult reassuring himself that all would be well. This was no ordinary business trip. This was a meeting he knew of six years ago. He had no idea how it would come up, but in his mind, he often heard the words spoken to him by a man he met in prison. Those words had been ringing clearly in his mind once the letter had arrived. The words were, "It's just a matter of time..."

Burke set his glass down, but kept one of the scotch-flavored ice cubes between his teeth. He lay the letter down on the other side of his bed, and clutched his pillow tight. He thought of Victoria, and her sweet, innocent smile. He kept thinking of the house he would have, called "Sea View". He would have everything he ever wanted. A beautiful woman to go home to, a fine house, and more money in his bank accounts than he could have ever dreamed of. This trip would give him what he needed to surpass the wealth of the Collins family, he just knew it. He would have more wealth and power than Barnabas Collins, who tried in every way to charm Victoria away from him. He would never have to feel anything taken from him ever again. He would never know the feeling of loss again. His possessions and wealth would only grow, his house would never depreciate, and his wife would be devoted only to him.

This was the deal of a lifetime. Although he knew that the greatest part of the fortune to be found would given in tribute to the man who helped him out of prison, the sacrifice would be worth it. He had to go. Nothing could stop him. He would be rich beyond any dream that he had as a young boy. No restrictions, no worries that the common man faces from day-to-day, and no problems. Ever. All would be perfect when he returned.

He closed his eyes, and tried to drift off to sleep. His mind, heavy with thought, wandered back to the night when he first met the man who wrote the letter. It was six years ago. In his mind echoed the loud screaming and taunts of the inmates and the prison guards. The stench of rust and iron permeated the air. His fists clenched as he felt tension swelling deep within him. Perspiration poured heavily from his hair and over his eyes. He was there again...in the place called, the Iron Red.

ACT I

Deep within the belly of the State Prison was an iron grate with a red bar in the center. Down beneath this metal grating were cracked concrete stairs that led to a large room filled with boiler pipes, large metal beams on the ceiling, and thick iron walls covered with dried blood stains and rust. Once, this room was used to torture and interrogate prisoners during the Civil War, and the blood of many men and women was spilled within these walls. Over the years, this room was used for something more practical. The most ill-behaved and dangerous prisoners were sent here for fighting every week. No rules, no referee, only fighting until the other couldn't take anymore.

The inmates who were chosen would watch as two of them would fight in the dirt-covered arena. There they sized up the winners for whom they may have to fight next. At the far end was a cage where guards were surrounded. Within the walls of this cage sat the most distinguished government officials, often including the governor and members of the state legislature. There, they would use treasury funds, campaign donations, and government-organized charity donations as front money to gamble on the winners. The lost money would be given back to the treasury which would act as a large pool for the next fight. In the past, large amounts of money that were lost were marked as donations to the city and state as cover stories, and made for good publicity in campaign ads. It was a never-ending cycle.

Candidates who started out with the most honest of intentions quickly fell from grace as they saw this kind of opportunity to fill their bank accounts with money that was so easily manipulated. The money and corruption only grew, and with each election, the funds were at their highest from campaign supporters. In the last four years, however, the tide was beginning to turn.

Burke was much younger than most of the inmates there within the walls of the Maine state prison, and had a lot more anger, which made him all the more dangerous when it came to survival. He had survived growing up as the poorest kid in town, being beaten and abused by his father, and being falsely accused of manslaughter and sentenced to serve hard time in the state penitentiary. To add insult to a life of injury, the woman he loved married the one who testified against him the day after his trial was over.

There he sat in the courtroom, listening to his accuser, Roger Collins, testifying that he was in the car that Burke had been driving, and he watched Burke hit a pedestrian and flee the scene. Burke's lover, Laura Murdoch, sat there with Roger, holding his hand, saying nothing. He screamed that one day he would kill Roger. He vowed to take revenge on the entire Collins family for putting him there.

Roger made sure that Burke would never come back, and with a little monetary influence, the judge classified Burke as a dangerous criminal, and he was transferred to the state prison in Maine.

With stale, cold meals every other day, no blankets, and no one to trust inside or outside the prison walls, Burke often took his anger out on the other inmates. He quickly became the shark in the pecking order among the other prisoners, which established him as a highly-valuable asset in the Iron Red. Although certainly not the biggest man, no one could match his resentment and anger when he was pushed past a threshold. Burke quickly became a favorite contender among the gambling officials, and was undefeated in over 60 fights. Of course, being a large money-maker for them did come with slight advantages.

Since Burke had become the top-ranked fighter, he was given special protein-packed meals that would build his strength, providing him extra nourishment to win. Also, he was given a pack of cigarettes after each win. With these favors as his motivation, he became consumed in the competition, and the attending elects quickly learned that he would be the one to bet on to make the most profit. Although he knew that money was their only reason for giving him such favors, he found a kind of solace and acceptance through their so-called "generosity". It was the first time he felt superior, and that he was respected somewhat. Through the years, he chased those feelings while pummeling away at anyone who stood toe-to-toe with him in the Iron Red. One night, after a relatively short fight, Burke's life would be changed forever.

Burke stood there reeling as a wild-swinging punch connected with his nose. He gathered himself quickly, dabbing his hand underneath his nose. He saw blood running down his hand, and felt a flash of rage coming over him. Before the man could even move to the left or right, Burke had charged him with a loud cry as he dealt the man a hard blow that dislocated his jaw. Burke quickly followed with a left and right combination to the man's ribs, cracking them. His opponent tried to back up, but Burke quickly grabbed his throat. In the blink of an eye, Burke slammed him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. Burke was then escorted by the guards toward the concrete stairs that led to the iron grate. The loud cheering and cursing echoed around the rusty, metal walls of the Iron Red.

Burke was taken to his cell as usual, and usually within an hour a guard would deliver a meal and a pack of cigarettes to him. Although it was a horrible place to be, and he was always on guard against those who would try to take his spot as the shark, he felt a quiet contentment. As long as he put on a good show, he was respected, feared, and accepted. However, tonight as he sat there, two hours had gone by.

"I want my payoff! Where did that little guard go? He better watch his back the next time he comes in here. He knows what I have coming to me!" Burke shouted.

A guard came by with a key twirling in his hands, whistling a tune. Burke shouted above the whistling. "Frank, what's going on here? Where are my smokes? What are you doing here?"

Frank never replied, he only whistled. With a loud turn and roaring slam of the iron doors, Burke quickly stepped out and grabbed Frank by his shirt collar. "Maybe you didn't hear me, Frank! I said I want my smokes and my supper now! Where is it?!"

An unfamiliar, deep-voiced man quickly reacted and knocked Devlin to the ground with a knight stick. "All right, Devlin! I would stop right now if I were you! You have a visitor to see you, so you might as well make yourself presentable! I'll give you three-minutes." the guard snapped.

Burke straightened his hair and uniform, and was led in shackles to a room where anxious inmates were eager to see or hear from their loved ones. All the time he was in here, he never had a visitor. He had written letters to his friend, Sam Evans, but Sam never replied. Who could be there to see him?

Still sore from the hard punch he took, he sat down in a chair and looked ahead to see who was sitting in front of him. Burke was surprised when the guard removed his shackles and left him alone with the man to talk. Burke saw a strange looking man with dark hair sitting across from him. He was wearing a custom-tailored, off-white suit with an off-white tie and shoes to match.

After staring for several moments, the man introduced himself. "Why don't I begin, then?" He held a brass cane with a gold ball on top, which itself had a pearl emblem of a strange-looking serpent engraved on it. "I will be brief, Burke. I have been chosen to deliver a message to you. If you accept my offer, you will be given riches beyond anything you could have ever dreamed, and you will be set free. Interested?"

Burke laughed, "Oh! So here's where my smokes must have gone. That's why they weren't given to me. Now I have to sell my soul to this man here, who is The Devil from the looks of him, and now he's offering the world to me. Well, if you have the right kind of imports on you, I will gladly sign it away."

The man never smiled. "Are you finished, my friend? There is much to discuss, and you need to listen because I only speak once."

Burke cleared his throat and asked. "Well, forgive me, "Sir". Before I do business with anyone, I like to know their names. What's your name, bud?"

The man gave a slight, half-smile. "My name is Edwards...Dameon Edwards."

Burke chided. "So you're the one who's offering the world to me, huh? If I say "yes", when do I get it? Today?"

Dameon Edwards looked at him indifferently as he spoke. He placed both arms on the table, and Burke noticed a tattoo on his wrist that was the same serpent-like symbol on the top of his cane. His lips formed a twisted grin when he said the words: "It's just a matter of time, my friend...It's just a matter of time."

(I do not own the rights to "Dark Shadows." This is only my fan fiction written for the enjoyment of the reader.)


	2. Chapter 2

ACT II

Burke scoffed at the man's strange sense of humor and mysterious demeanor, then laughed. "Well, Mr. Dameon Edwards, if you need a lackey you might want to find someone else, see? I've done this whole "lackey" bit before my whole life, and I ain't gonna do it anymore. Down here, I get respect. There are a couple dozen fellows down here that won't come near me, you know why? Because they're afraid of me, that's why. Another half a dozen are envious because of how I've become the shark in this little pool of misfits down here. At least they feed me better now as long as I make them money." Burke pointed both of his thumbs toward himself and held his head high. " I...am the boss down here, Edwards. Nobody tells me what to do, except when I have to fight next. That's right, down here it's MY rules.

"Out there, I lived by other people's rules for years. My father made rules, and I was paid off with beatings. One time I tried to run away, and he beat me so hard his hands were raw for two weeks. Ever been beaten that bad, Edwards?" Dameon sat there expressionless and silent. Burke leaned in close. "Well, I have. I was beaten all the time as a kid. I was the poorest kid in the whole town. My dad couldn't hold a job, and that Collins family never lifted a finger to help us. I took jobs modeling for a painter named Sam Evans for quarters, and I walked out at night combing the beach for glass bottles to turn in so I could get food for my mother and me. When I grew up, I had friends who set me up and railroaded me outta town for something I know I didn't do. That's how I ended up here, Edwards. Not only that, but the woman I loved, married my accuser the next day. How do you deal with that, huh?

"Down here, I'm the one making the rules. Everyone knows that I'm worth something down here. So you tell me, why would I want to leave this place? If I left here, nobody would respect me because they would look at me and just see another ex-con. I'd never be able to get a job, and no one would ever respect me like they do here." Burke sat back in his chair. "Here, I matter. I'm number one. So why don't you take your offer, and go find someone else?" Devlin turned to motion for the guard.

Dameon held up his hand to the guard who was starting to open the door, and he motioned for him to stop. Dameon leaned closer to Burke, his voice filled with authority. "Listen, I understand that you "think" you're really something down here. Have you ever thought about what is going to happen to you in a few years? Burke, you're not going to be young and in the shape you're in forever. My friend, eventually, someone will come and take your respect away from you and beat you without mercy. You will be humiliated, and when the "Shark" is eaten by a bigger shark, he's finished. That's what will happen to you, my friend. You're only good to them while you're winning these fights. That's all you are, Burke. You're their pawn. Once you stop making money for them, what will you be left with? You'll be a broken down man in his thirties who is unable to work because of the brutal beatings you will suffer when you lose. You will be a mockery, a has-been, Burke. Since you're the shark, you know what happens to these men down here who show their weaknesses. You'll be worm food before you know it." Burke sighed and looked down as Dameon continued.

"Is that the kind of life you want ? You're not a lackey for one man, but a lackey for an entire city. I can give you what you want, Burke. I can make you wealthier than you could have ever dreamed of being. I know you already know this, and have thought this through many times. Your anger and survival instinct push all this to the back of your mind, and all you do is live for the day. That's all you've ever known to do, Burke. I have a better life to offer you, and it won't be long before your life takes a different turn for once. You will have your money, your respect, your freedom, and most importantly, your revenge against those who put you in here. If you will give me a moment, I will explain the plan."

Burke sat still pondering, and Dameon gave him a sinister glare. "Come now, my friend, you know you want to hear it."

Burke rubbed his square jaw with his hand, and looked at the bright-shining serpent symbol on Dameon's cane. His fingers ran through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He sighed deeply, as if the words spoken by Dameon had broken through his barriers and reality had settled in. Once again he realized he had become a pawn. No matter where he was, he seemed pre-destined to be this. He was done with it. His face hardened and his eyes focused on Dameon's blank stare. Burke replied, his voice filled with melancholy. "Okay, what is it that you have? I want to hear the WHOLE story, not just some of it. That "Need -to-know basis" kinda stuff doesn't set well with me. "

Dameon smiled. "Of course, my friend. As I told you earlier, I am only a speaker for my master. I speak the entire message he gives me to bring, and I deliver it only once."

Burke interrupted. "So you say your... "Master"...sent you to me, huh? Why? Who are you people?"

Dameon answered in a low, chilling tone. "We are what remains of a devoted society that has been here since the beginning of time. We are many, and our eyes and hands are in every place. We have survived through the millennia, shaping and changing history. We are many members, but one body. We all belong somewhere. I am the speaker. My master tells me to speak for him, and I obey. You have been watched for a long time, Burke. Though my own eyes have never seen you before, others in my..."family"... have. You were seen as a boy. Their eyes watched you the day you were sentenced by Roger Collins' testimony against you. Their eyes have seen you fighting and lining the pockets of those who have used you like a pawn with money they have stolen. My master is offering you a way of escape, my boy.

"In the few moments we have spoken, I have seen deeply into your soul. You have unmatched anger and hurt. Buried underneath it all, you have a conscience, my friend. Your hate quickly dissipates when your longing for a better life settles in. You love money, Burke. All of your life, you have seen how money carries with it a host of influence. It carries with it respect, envy, love, and power. These are things you have been denied since the day you were born. Now, you have all these things within your fingertips. If you follow what my master has planned, you will quickly surpass the Collins family's wealth, and will live a life free of worries and free of loss."

Burke's face had softened now that his deepest emotional scars were being brought to light. His tone was grim and full of sadness. "But why me, Edwards? Know what I am? I'm a convicted felon. Nobody will take me seriously. As soon as my so-called "fortune" comes, people will find out that I spent time in here, and they won't have anything to do with me. I'm nobody out there, Edwards. Your master picked the wrong guy."

Dameon quickly defended his master's decision. "Burke, I do not question my master's actions. I obey them. If I were to guess, he chose you because deep down, you have a conscience. That is what you must have to follow through with my master's plan. Now, you will remain silent as I deliver my message."

Burke sat back in his seat, his arms folded. He felt a barrier of pride and skepticism going up, and his body language followed suit. Dameon was unaffected by his attitude as he spoke.

"Mr Devlin, as I told you, we are history changers and devoted followers to our master. We work in secret, and my master rewards us openly for our obedience. My master has seen how dissatisfied you are with the way some of your fellow inmates are treated, and the whole corrupt system of politics within this city.

"Someone petitioned my master last year for an opportunity to govern this city in exchange for a tribute known only between them. You are going to help him to achieve that power. You will act on our behalf, and will dissolve the political powers that are leading this city."

Burke leaned forward and quickly interrupted. "Wait a minute...what?! You want me to lead a revolt and overthrow the government here? I'm no..."

Dameon stood angrily, staring down into his eyes. "One more interruption, and I will see that you never leave this place. You do not question. You listen, is that clear?"

Burke said nothing. With a deep sigh, he nodded his head as Dameon began to speak again. "The election is in two days, and tomorrow, a fight between yourself and William Shaw will be taking place. The funds from campaign donations and charities are at their highest during the election week, and whoever has the most winnings at the end of the match is the one who stays in power the next four years. I am sure you know by now that votes are merely ruses to make the people believe that they are contributing to "the right man for the job". In truth, it is a way to influence them to contribute their money to raise the stakes for the match tomorrow."

Burke's eyes grew wide in disbelief, and Dameon scoffed. "Come now, my friend, did you really believe that the people's opinions sway the balance of power?" Burke looked down, and his hands clasped together nervously, but he answered, "I thought you were delivering a message, and not lecturing me with a civics lesson."

Dameon's lips pursed at this bold retort, but he continued where he left off, keeping sharp eye contact with Devlin. "Tomorrow night, you will lose. You are the one that all of them are expecting to win. William Shaw is a recovering drug addict, and is in no shape to fight a man like you. He's good, but no match for you. The governor is so determined to be re-elected that he personally carried out orders to transfer Shaw to this prison for the sole purpose of losing to you tomorrow. All the odds are in your favor, Burke, and all bets will be placed on you. We are going to hit them where it hurts, and return the money to the state treasury where it belongs. There, it will be secured.

"The governor's actions will be brought to light, as will all the details of what goes on in the Iron Red. There will be scandal and shame brought to the governor and the other candidates for their taking part. The people will want a new leader, a symbol of justice. That is the opportunity the man who petitioned my master will seize, and the position will be his for the taking. As a token of appreciation, my master is offering you a chance at life, with all the riches you could imagine. Also, you will be granted opportunity to have your revenge on those who put you here." Dameon stood as Devlin's eyes stayed locked in with his.

Burke's mind lay heavily with questions he was afraid to ask, but was unable to stop himself. "But...how? How can I fake losing like that? Won't they know that I lost on purpose to a man who is such an underdog that he's practically a worthless opponent? They would come after me and kill me if this plan of yours doesn't work! I don't even know anything about you and your "family" as you call them."

Dameon, still standing, leaned forward. "Burke, we haven't survived several millennia by ill-conceived plans. The method has already been chosen to ensure that you do exactly as we have planned. You do not have to concern yourself with how to carry out our plans. You only agree to obey them. You go down to the Iron Red as always, and you fight as you always do. We will take care of the rest. All you have to do is agree to our terms of payment once you are awarded your freedom."

Burke felt another barrier go up, and leaned back with a cocky turn of his head. "So now here it comes. Do I offer you my first-born child, or sign away my soul with a blood-dipped quill pen?"

Dameon grinned slightly as he spoke. "In exchange for your freedom and all of your fortune that is to come, you will be required to pay in tribute the one thing you hold most dear. You may keep everything else, but you must surrender your most beloved treasure to my master as a tribute offering. A small price to pay for a lifetime of prosperity, don't you think? You've known loss all of your life, so what is one more thing? Accept my master's offer, and your new life will begin."

He nervously ran his fingers through his hair, and rubbed a raw spot on the back of his neck.. This was too good to be true. He couldn't resist the urge to ask, "How will I be released and guaranteed freedom?"

Dameon coyly replied, "Well, my friend, as long as you're making them money, you will never leave here. They will make sure of that. Then, the moment you lose your position you hold, you are as good as dead. My master guarantees your freedom, and the plan will be revealed to you when you have completed the task my master asks of you. You have nothing to lose, save the one term of payment required of you by my master."

Dameon stretched forth his tattooed hand toward Burke. "Now is the moment of your choosing. You may only choose once. Reject my master's offer, and I will leave and you will never see me again. Accept, and your new life begins, my friend."

Burke knew that there was no other way out. If he would take this, he would finally have the life he always wanted. His whole life, he had dealt with loss and survival. He would only experience loss one more time. With a fortune greater than that of the entire Collins family, he could stand to lose his most prized possession. The ends justified the means. The sacrifice was well-worth the reward.

Burke stood to his feet, his lips struggled to utter the words. "I...I...uh...", he took a deep breath. "I accept your offer, Edwards."

Dameon smiled, and said, "You have pleased my master, and I am pleased when obedience is shown to him in return for his generosity. Now, the covenant must be sealed. Give me your arm, Mr Devlin."

He looked at his own right arm, and began to reach for Dameon's hand to shake on their agreement. Dameon pulled Burke's arm close and pressed his tattooed hand on the underside of Burke's forearm. Burke pulled his arm back after Dameon released it and asked him, "What was that? What did you do, Edwards?"

Dameon remained calm and took his cane in his hand. "Your new life has now begun, Burke, and the mark of my master has been placed on you to carry out his plan. I suggest you rest well tonight. You will need all of your strength to survive tomorrow." Dameon walked to the door and opened it, and looked back at him. "It's just a matter of time..."

Burke sat there staring at his forearm where Dameon's tattoo was pressed down. His eyes never moved from the spot on his arm as the guards came and placed the shackles around his wrists and ankles. The guards escorted him back to his cell, and he lay on the cold concrete slab, trying to take in everything that Dameon told him.

Burke's mind ran rampant with questions. "Was this for real? Does Dameon's master really have the resources to simply give me all that I want? How can I just lose tomorrow? What is going to happen to me? Will I really be able to bankrupt the Collins family one day? When will I get out of this place?"

In his mind, he heard the chilling echo of Dameon's voice, "It's just a matter of time..."

(I do not own the rights to "Dark Shadows." This is only my fan fiction written for the enjoyment of the reader.)


	3. Chapter 3

**ACT III**

A loud rattle of the lock startled Burke as he opened his eyes from a deep sleep. "This is your wake-up call, Devlin. I've been sent to get you. You know what tonight is. I'll give you one minute."

With blurred vision and a heavy head, Burke rose from the slab he was sleeping on. His stomach was cramped with hunger, and his eyes struggled to focus. Under strict orders from the governor himself, Burke was not given any food that day. He reasoned that Burke would be much more aggressive without his daily comforts being provided.

To help keep his mind off of the hunger pains, Burke chose to sleep most of the day away. However, his sleep was broken by many wild dreams and throbbing pains from headaches and stomach aches. He was angry at the guards, and he was angry at the governor. More than anything, Burke Devlin was angry at the entire world. He had been deceived and taken advantage of his entire life. "This," he thought. "...is exactly what they want, too. Dameon was right."

Unsure of how he would throw the fight and follow Dameon's plan, Burke held his head high. His eyesight blurred as he walked with the guards toward the grating which led down to the Iron Red. As they approached, the echoes of inmates yelling and taunting echoed loudly beneath the bars of the grating. The roaring chaos weighed heavily on his reason as pulsating pains shot through his temples. Burke just knew that he was angry, and that he was ready to fight.

Officer Frank pulled back the grating and escorted Devlin to the dirt-covered arena. At the far end of the room was the cage. Many gray and white hairs in suits were passing around wads of cash that didn't belong to them. Scribbling names and numbers furiously in a notebook, the State Treasurer collected the money being passed around. The governor and his opponents were arguing and placing their bets.

Some of the inmates Burke was surrounded by everyday were taunting and cursing him, and others were cheering. Standing on the opposite end, covered with bruises and red marks on his skin, was William Shaw.

Standing five inches shorter than Burke, William Shaw seemed somewhat disillusioned. "Could they have drugged him, I wonder?" Burke thought to himself.

William had a fierce look in his eyes, but his body was moving slowly. Disoriented and unstable, he stood there facing Burke. With no warning, no bell, no gunshot, Shaw bellowed and charged toward him.

Burke held his arms out to slow the momentum of the force of Shaw's charge. As Burke shoved back, Shaw fell to the ground in front of him. Devlin knelt down, throwing a quick jab that connected with Shaw's right jawbone. Burke lifted Shaw off the ground by his shirt collar, and drove his fist deeply into his ribs. Stooped over and gasping for air, Shaw was lifted by his hair as Burke sent him spinning to the ground with a hard right cross.

With all his effort, Shaw struggled to stand up and keep his balance. The inmates and candidates were cheering and taunting louder and louder. Burke didn't know how he was going to lose such an easy fight, but he did as Dameon told him to do. The fight had to go on as it always had.

Seeing his opponent staggering, Burke stood still for a moment. Loud boos and cursing erupted from the agitated prisoners. With rage flying all over his face, Shaw rushed him again and knocked Burke to the ground. With a death grip around Burke's neck, he began strangling him. Devlin tried furiously to loosen his grip, but Shaw dug his knee into Burke's chest while he was down. Unable to exhale from the pain exploding in his chest, Burke struggled to get his opponent off of him. Like a wounded animal, Shaw was fighting back with intense ferocity.

After he managed to roll him over, Burke quickly stood to his feet. With his repressed anger quickly surfacing, he taunted Shaw, motioning for him to charge at him again. "Come on, Shaw! Show me what you got! Come on! Come get me!"

Pulling a shiny object from his pocket, Shaw rushed toward Devlin again. Somehow he managed to hide a small piece of jagged metal inside of his pants pocket. He ran towards Burke and began swinging furiously. Every move he made toward him, Shaw lunged forward with the sharp weapon.

The governor, once he saw what was in Shaw's hand, quickly stood and yelled at one of the guards to take it away from him. Shaw saw the man coming for him. With a loud scream, the guard drew back as Shaw's blade sliced across his left eye.

Burke used this split second to grab Shaw's wrist and knock the metal object across the floor. Furiously, Devlin began punching him as hard as he could, alternating between face and body combinations.

Shaw fell to the ground with his face covered in blood from a broken nose. Burke stepped back in a fighting stance, ready at any moment for his opponent to make a move. Out of the corner of Burke's eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar man standing by and watching.

About ten paces in front of him in the shadows of the crowd, Burke saw the man in the off-white suit kneeling to the ground. Dropping the cane on the ground and stepping back, Dameon's eyes grew wide and dilated. Unable to look away, Burke stood still for a few seconds watching Dameon's lips moving furiously as though whispering some kind of chant. In the blink of an eye, Shaw knocked Devlin to the ground with a hard left to his jaw. Burke felt his bones crunching as he hit the ground.

Through blurred vision, Burke lifted his head and saw something slithering toward him. The roaring of the crowd grew louder and there were shouts of warning and protest. Burke's vision recovered, and he saw a snake quickly moving toward him. Before he could react, he saw Dameon standing in place with his mouth opening wide and closing in a biting motion. When Dameon's mouth closed, Burke felt two sharp stabs piercing into his forearm. Burke saw the snake latched onto his arm, and he tried to pull it off quickly. With an incredible rush of adrenalin from the intensity of pain, he jumped to his feet and squeezed near the snake's mouth to loosen it's grip. Most of the crowd was shouting, some were laughing. Some were gasping in shock and disbelief, some were cursing.

Trying to focus in his drug-induced delirium, Shaw fell on his knees from exhaustion. Surely it all had to be some hallucination.

Burke felt the snake's grip release on his arm, and he quickly slipped his hand over where the snake had bitten him. He felt life slipping away from him and collapsed to the ground. In a blurred haze, the lights began to flicker like they were shorting out, and the arena became very dark. Through the dim flickers of light, only Burke caught a glimpse of the snake moving quickly to where Dameon stood. With an outstretched hand, Dameon reached for the serpent.

Dameon stood and was holding the cane again, and the flickering lights allowed him the opportunity to quickly slip away unnoticed behind the rowdy crowd. Burke felt everything getting darker as he lay there unable to move. As his chest and throat became tighter and tighter, the horrible intensity of pain caused him to gasp for air. Right where Dameon had pressed his strange tattoo against Burke's skin, there were two large, free-bleeding punctures in his arm.

Burke's eyes rolled back in his head, and he felt his breathing slowing to a stop. With the roar of the crowd fading, everything was becoming silent. This was the end. It was over. He would die as a pawn, but at least he had accomplished something in his life. He was now going to be a martyr for a worthy political cause.

Burke knew there would be no consequences for his defiance. Surely his Maker would notice his last moment of heroism before he met Him. With a final sigh, Burke's eyes closed and he lay there motionless. Absolute silence and pitch darkness overtook him as he felt the last flow of air leaving his body.

With a quick jerk, Burke opened his eyes. He was wide awake. A bright light shone directly into his eyes, and he sat up. He wondered aloud, "What...what happened? Where...where am I? Is this...is it...eternity?"

He heard a man chuckling from across the room, and Burke turned his head in that direction. There stood Dameon, walking toward him. "Welcome to your new life, my friend. Welcome...to your new Heaven."

Looking around the room, Burke saw white walls and tile floor. The window shade was closed, and light shone through the cracks of the blinds. The strong smell of ammonia permeated the room, and the air was somewhat stagnant.

Wincing in pain as he pushed himself up, Burke heard beeping sounds from a monitor that was beside his bed. His eyes shifted toward Dameon, his breathing labored from exhaustion.

"Edwards? Where...where am I? What is this place?" Burke stared intently at Dameon. Even though his body was weak, his eyes were harsh.

Calmly, Dameon answered. "You're in the state hospital, Burke. You were rushed here after your fight with Shaw. You're on the 6th floor. You gave everyone quite a scare, my friend." Dameon laughed, "No one was expecting a snake to suddenly appear and take you down like that. How are you feeling?"

Burke stared angrily. "I almost died, Edwards! I thought I did! Now it seems your great plan failed. What did you have to do with that...that snake? You...", he lifted himself up, grabbing only air as he reached for Dameon's shirt. "...you set me up!"

Dameon turned away casually, keeping his composure as Burke fell back weakly against the bed. "Now, Burke, my friend...that's not very grateful. My master knew there was only one way to make your fight look like a legitimate loss. You did great, Burke. You really put on a great show. Everyone placed all of their money on you, you know that? Well, except one-the man who petitioned my master." Sitting in a chair opposite the bed, Dameon looked down at his fingernails and began to file them. "I apologize. I am a vain man at times. My hands are important to me, and I feel obligated to take care of them."

Holding on tightly to the railing, Burke stared angrily at Dameon. "I want to know what happened, Edwards! No more games. What's gonna happen to me?"

Dameon finished filing his last fingernail before answering. Resting his hands on the top of his cane, he stood and walked back to the side of the bed. "Well, as I told you, Burke, you lost. The governor and all of his opponents bet all their money on you, and lost. Some candidates even fronted the deeds to their homes to try and outbid their opponents. However, as it seems, an anonymous call was made to the state police, informing them of the events that were taking place that night. You must believe me, my friend, they were all too happy to have a part in preventing the governor's re-election as his first bill would have been detrimental to their funding and pay."

Dameon laughed arrogantly, "Oh, Burke, it was amazing. The looks on their faces when they knew they had lost everything. They stared with their eyes wide and their mouths open. My master's petitioner, Claude North, was the only one on the ballots that did not attend or have anything to do with the Iron Red. Therefore, his position was secured by forfeit. His instructions were simple: to simply stay home and wait. Mr. North now sits in the governor's seat, with all the funds of the treasury and the properties of the estates that were fronted at his disposal. He has become an overnight success story, just as he wanted."

Turning around, Dameon walked to a chair on the far end of the room and took something in his hand . "I assure you, he wasted no time in exposing the governor and his opponents for their involvement in the gambling on the Iron Red fights. Also...well, here." Dameon returned and tossed a newspaper in Burke's lap. "I'll let you read it for yourself."

Burke saw a picture of the governor and all of the state officials who sat in the cage every night. There they stood with numbered plates in front of them and in prisoner's uniforms as he once had. According to the article, "...an anonymous tip to the state police was made, and they raided the prison. The governor and all those involved were placed under arrest, and prisoners were forced into lockdown. A journal containing names and monetary amounts was recovered and is being held as evidence against them. Upon entering this area known by the prisoners as 'Iron Red', one prisoner was found in a comatose state, and has been taken to the state hospital and is being treated for life-threatening injuries. Maine's newly-elected governor, Claude North, has issued a seizure of assets to all those involved, and their families are being relocated to small neighborhoods in Augusta until further investigation is completed..." Burke turned the page to the next part of the article.

Governor North was issuing an investigation of the inmates' testimonies of the events that went on in the underground arena known as the "Iron Red". Included in this investigation was an official apology to the inmates and their families. In addition, he made promises of medical exams to those who may have sustained any injuries during the "...former governor's brutality and torture of our state's reforming citizens."

Burke skipped ahead and saw a report of one fatality. "Police recovered the body of a man whose identity will remain undisclosed. According to coroner's reports, he was drugged, and was allegedly involved in the last fight before police entered the complex. During the lockdown, his heart burst that night from overstimulation due to a dangerous combination of uppers. It is unknown if the substances were self-administered at this time..."

Shaking his head angrily, Burke scoffed. " '...an unnamed prisoner...dead from overstimulation...' His name was William Shaw, and he didn't belong there! He wasn't in any shape to be there! He didn't have to die, Edwards!"

Dameon kept his composure, and handed Burke another newspaper. Solemnly, Dameon replied. "That was an old paper. Here is today's copy. Keep reading, my friend. You're almost at the good part."

Staring callously at the floor with both hands resting on his cane, Dameon was ignoring the cold stare that Burke was giving him. Burke's eyes returned to the paper, and he flipped to a page with Governor North's picture.

Burke sat up suddenly. His eyes grew wide and his hands became sweaty as he read aloud, " 'Governor North has reviewed the case of the one prisoner hospitalized with near-fatal injuries from the events that took place two weeks ago.. ' ", Burke paused and looked at Dameon. "Two weeks? I've been in here for two weeks?"

Standing still and in complete silence, Dameon's face was devoid of any emotion. The newspaper rattled as Burke returned to what he was reading.

" ' ...that took place two weeks ago. He has since been in a coma. The governor has issued a...full pardon' ?!" Burke grinned and began laughing as he read on. "...'a full pardon based on the fact that the prisoner has shown exemplary behavior while incarcerated and is in good behavioral standing. It was with great humility and sincere apology that Governor North signed a full pardon to this man who is now a reformed citizen of good conscience and good behavior. His injuries are being treated and is making considerable progress. Governor North expresses his sincere gratitude for the man's improvement in behavior. He sends also his best wishes for all of the good things life has to offer for his new journey.' "

Laughing hysterically as he tossed the paper in his lap, Burke saw Dameon smiling. "Edwards, we did it! I'm free! Ha! I'm a free man now!"

Dameon pulled a small rectangular box from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Burke. "You have been faithful to my master over a few things, and now he will set you to rule over many."

Burke beamed. "Well, be sure to tell your master that I sincerely appreciate what he's done for me. There's no price higher than a man's life, is there, Edwards? Nothing more valuable than living from day to day."

Dameon said to him. "I trust you will remember those words when the time is come to collect your tribute that we agreed on."

Burke nodded. "I will NEVER forget this day, Edwards, for as long as I live. What's in the box?"

Dameon answered, "The contents within are instructions for you to follow explicitly to the letter. This will be my last conversation with you, Burke, until the time comes for your tribute. Please, open it, and I will tell you what you must do."

Without hesitation, Burke lifted the cover of the box and reached inside. He pulled out a folded note and a sealed envelope. With strange curiosity, Burke stared at the envelope. The same symbol of Dameon's tattoo was engraved in the seal.

Setting the envelope to the side, Burke unfolded the letter. With nervous excitement, his hands shook and his eyes grew wide in disbelief.

Inside his trembling hands, he held a Swedish bank statement with his name, account number, and a balance of three million dollars.

(I do not own the rights to "Dark Shadows." This story is my fan-fiction written for the enjoyment of the reader.)


	4. Chapter 4

**ACT IV**

Burke held the sealed envelope in his hand, his hands and fingers trembling. "Edwards, how did..?! Three million dollars deposited into a bank account in my name?! That I never opened?! I just...I don't understand it. How did you..?"

Dameon interrupted, "I had nothing to do with it, Burke. My master has many resources, my friend. Apparently, there was a life insurance policy with a death benefit that was somehow...overlooked...when your father passed away last year. My master made sure that it was found, and that the benefit was paid to the sole beneficiary-you. A very touching letter of deep remorse and sincere apology was also found with it. Your father was very sorry for all the torment he caused you as a child, and hoped that this somehow helped to...ease your pain."

Burke's eyes and ears burned hot as a searing flash of anger rushed to his forehead. In a split second, years of anger quickly surfaced within him. His trembling voice booming and growing louder with each word he spoke, Burke exclaimed, "There was a...? Wait! My father NEVER apologized a day of his life!"

Devlin shouted as his finger pointed with each word he was now yelling. "He never even came to see me or write to me the whole time I was in there! Why couldn't he write something to me then while I was in there and needed him most?!"

Dameon's melancholy, soft tone took prevalence over Burke's yelling. "My friend...listen. I said that a letter was found. I never said your father wrote it." Tears started to sting Devlin's eyes as he struggled to compose himself. He tried to hide his vulnerability from Dameon as he asked, "What? You mean it was...this was all forged? The money, the life insurance policy, the letter, everything? You mean that none of it is legitimate?"

Dameon replied, "All that my master does is legitimate. He speaks, and it is so. He writes it, and it becomes engraved in stone and historical fact. The policy, the money, and all that is inside this letter is legitimate and legally binding. That being said, you must break the seal of the envelope you are holding, and my final instructions will be given to you. My role will be over until we meet again at the time of your tribute. The time has come for your new life to begin, Burke, as soon as you break the seal."

Seconds seemed like hours as Burke stared solemnly at the envelope in his hands. The letter lay flatly between his fingers. With a deep sigh, Burke's index finger slid along the crease of the paper and paused. The unopened letter fell in his lap. "I...I just don't know if..."

Dameon's eyes dilated and flashed with ferocity as he chastised Burke. "What is it that you are afraid of? Are you afraid to claim money and power that you have rightfully earned? How can you break your great enemies tomorrow if you can't even break this small seal today?"

Burke felt a wicked sense of defiance swelling within him. Staring at Dameon with a smirk on his face, Devlin clenched his square jaw and slid his finger across the seal without hesitation. Dameon smiled in approval when the seal was cracked. Taking out the letter inside and unfolding it, Burke watched a ticket falling down in his lap. As he started reading the note, Dameon stood still and began quoting the letter verbatim.

Dameon spoke what Burke's eyes were following in the letter:

"Burke Devlin, I thank you and congratulate on your new life. For your faithfulness to our cause, I have generously rewarded you. My servant, Dameon Edwards, has served me well, and I trust has taken good care of you.

Following your hospital release tonight, you will find a car waiting for you outside which will take you to the airport. You are to board the flight destined to arrive in Montevideo. I have taken the liberty of providing a first-class round trip ticket for you. When you arrive at the airport in Montevideo, a contact will meet with you.

This contact knows of your situation, and he is anxious to meet with you. He is an investment mogul named Stuart Bronson. His knowledge will be a great asset to you. He will escort you to a remote little bar in the area that will be suitable for a proper business meeting for the two of you.

Also, you will be accompanied by a man, James Blair, who has accepted the position of your personal banking manager to help keep track of your new assets and income. Mr. Blair is a close relative of one of my finest servants. His reputation precedes him as one of the highest ranked personal bankers in the country, so you may place your full trust in him.

Furthermore, you are now a free man to live as you please. There is only one condition.

I am well aware of the revenge you plan to exact against the Collins family, namely Roger Collins. Do with them as you please, but you must not kill Roger Collins. One of my closest associates has requested a petition of me concerning him, so he is not to be killed. Otherwise, you are free to live and do as you please, save this one mandate.

If you should break your agreement and his blood is found on your hands, your privileges will be forfeited and your new life will be taken from you. We are not a family of murderers, but when a petition is made, we do as we must to protect those involved and that which is to be gained from the petitions.

When six years from today is passed, you will offer the one thing you value most as a tribute offering to me through my servant, Dameon Edwards. Everything else will be yours to keep, and your debt will be satisfied.

I am sure you are eager to begin immediately. You are an ambitious young man who will make good use of the gifts given to you. On behalf of myself and my servants, I thank you for helping to advance our cause and helping establish order where there was great chaos and injustice.

For my final words, I ask you to reflect upon the great symbol of our family. Its image is engraved in the cane and right hand of Dameon Edwards, my servant. The symbol of our being is the beast called "Naga".

The Naga's four heads oath what is necessary for you to succeed in this life and overcome your enemies, Mr. Devlin.

The first head is for poison, which is the gift of a silver-tongue and persuasion.

The second is for prowess. You must be ever-vigilant and unyielding in your resolve to know your enemy's next moves.

The third head is for great strength. You will become more powerful each day as long as you are obedient to my single command and heed the words of my associates I have placed to assist you.

Finally, the fourth and final head stands for execution. You must strike first, and never hesitate to attack your enemies once you have them in your grasp.

Poison your enemies with your words and gain their favor and trust. Keep your enemies closer than any friend, and watch their every move. Do not be afraid to exercise your power over an enemy, and, when the opportunity presents itself, attack without hesitation or mercy. No foe will stand in your way. They will be no match for you. Good journey, Mr Devlin. It's just a matter of time."

As Dameon recited the last sentence, Burke lowered the letter and looked up. Dameon was gone.

Burke turned his body to the side, got his bearings, and stood slowly to his feet. Feeling excitement and strength welling deeply within him, his steps grew more steady. Devlin peered through the blinds and looked out the window at the parking lot. There was no sign of Dameon Edwards. He had disappeared.

Burke heard a knocking on his door, and he turned around to see an attractive nurse standing in the doorway. She said, "Mr. Devlin, the doctors have released you with a clean bill of health and your ride is here to take you to the airport. Do you need help packing your things?"

Puzzled at how quickly everything had happened, Burke ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a warm smile. "No thanks, honey. I'm fine. I'm...I'm great, actually." He stood tall and threw his shoulders back. "In fact, I'm...better than I've ever been in my life. Maybe when I get back, I can take you to dinner sometime. That is, unless some young handsome doctor hasn't already taken you away. Even then, I just might have to fight him to let me have a drink and a dance with you."

The nurse blushed and smiled, "Oh, really? You must still be groggy from your medicine because nobody ever talks to me that way. I'd better leave you alone before you get me into trouble."

Burke laughed," Well, I wouldn't ever dream of doing that. I'll be sure to look you up the next time I ever feel ill or lonely."

The nurse rolled her eyes and turned away, but grinned and blushed as she walked down the hallway. Burke quickly gathered his things and opened his cabinet. Inside he found a tailored charcoal gray suit hanging neatly, and a new Italian leather briefcase engraved with his initials. He got dressed and went to the nurse's station.

After Devlin signed out, he went to down the hospital lobby carrying the briefcase.

As Burke pushed the door open, he almost dropped his briefcase when he saw it sitting there. Shining and glistening in the sun's bright rays was a black limousine with the door being held open.

Laughing from excitement, Burke happily walked toward the sleek limousine. A chauffeur in fine uniform greeted him warmly. "Good evening, Mr. Devlin. Your plane will be departing shortly, but we will have you there at the airport on time. May I take your bags, sir?" Burke was speechless, and completely taken aback by this kind of treatment.

Burke nodded and smiled, gave his suitcase to the man, and sat down inside. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and found $1,000 in cash inside. Shaking his head in disbelief, he knew he had to be dreaming. Nothing this great had ever happened to him. Burke thought to himself, "Okay, if this is a dream, I'll play the rich guy routine all the way to the end of it."

Devlin leaned up in his seat to ask the driver, "Excuse me, mister. What's your name?" Reaching his white-gloved hand out and removing his hat, the young man introduced himself. "My name's Jenkins, sir. Alex Jenkins. My pleasure to have you here with us, Mr. Devlin."

Burke asked, "So what do you do when you're not driving around the rich and famous?"

Alex replied, "Well, my girlfriend Claire and I are plannin' on gettin' married and drivin' cross country. We want to explore haunted places and write about them. We're savin' up for a wedding right now."

Burke pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, tore it in half, and gave it to the man. Alex gasped, "Thank ya, but what's this for, sir?"

Burke smiled and said in a playful tone that he had often heard rich men use, "You're welcome, but don't get lazy now. I want to make it to that airport in time to grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee before that plane takes off. Think you can do that ? I'll give you the other half if you can." The man pressed the gas and pulled into oncoming traffic. Alex shouted over the honking horns, "That I can, sir!"

Burke looked out the tinted window, smiling. This was real, and it was only the beginning. Soon, he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams. The little poor boy that combed the beach looking for glass bottles to cash in was now gone. The disgraced man who was wrongfully sent to prison was now free and ready to plan his revenge. Burke smiled with wicked delight as he folded his arms and said to himself, "It's just a matter of time, Roger..."

**EPILOGUE**

Burke climbed out of bed, holding Dameon's letter in his hand. His stomach was nervous, and he wasn't able to eat his breakfast. He took the picture of Victoria and himself and put it in his black-leather briefcase. He knew he should have told Victoria about Dameon and why he was going on this trip. Perhaps when he got back he could tell her.

He had packed everything else the night before, so there wasn't much left to do except to make it to the airport in time. Burke's driver wasted no time getting him there. When they arrived, Devlin wasted no time getting to the gate. About twenty others boarded the plane with him. Among them were his associates, Stuart Bronson and James Blair.

Burke could only wonder what was awaiting him in Brazil. He knew Dameon would be there waiting for him, but he knew that a great opportunity was there also. Whatever the greatest treasure was, it was what Dameon and his master demanded for tribute. Burke had no clue what it could be, but he knew that it had to be worth a king's ransom.

As the plane lifted off the ground, Burke sat talking and laughing with Bronson and Blair for hours. They made light jokes of what they were going to do when they received their dividends of the wealth to be found and toasted each other's good fortunes.

Burke downed a glass of scotch and water and excused himself. "I think I will go to the lavatory for a quick shave. I left so quickly this morning I forgot to do it. It's been six years ago today that I saw Dameon, and I can't have him thinking I've grown ill-mannered and uncaring about my appearance now, can I?"

Burke took his shaving bag to the lavatory and washed his face. As he began shaving, Burke could feel the plane beginning to shake. His shaving bag and its contents spilled onto the floor.

As Burke kneeled over to pick everything up, he heard an announcement coming over the intercom in a calm voice. "Good morning, this is your captain. We've encountered a bit of turbulence, so for safety protocol, please fasten your seat restraints and use the oxygen masks located above you. It's just a matter of time before we pass through. That is all."

Too embarrassed to leave his face half-shaven, Burke hurried and finished. After rinsing his face and drying it with a towel, he grabbed his shaving bag and opened the door. He walked down the narrow corridor and passed through the curtain. In unexpected horror, Devlin stood still in dead silence when he caught sight of the quiet passengers in their seats.

They all had their masks on, yet were lying in their seats completely motionless. Some of them had their eyes closed, some had wide-eyed blank stares. Burke dropped his shaving bag and ran up the aisle, stopping at each row of passengers. None of them were breathing. Burke's eyes looked up as he saw a man in a pilot's uniform coming from the captain's cabin.

The pilot, whose hat bill was somewhat hiding his face, stared in Burke's direction and walked toward him. "Are you all right, sir? What happened here?" Burke was confused, scared, and unable to answer. He went to the nearest passenger and knelt down beside him, shaking him. "Bronson! Wake up! C'mon, Bronson! Talk to me!"

Burke noticed the mask around Stuart Bronson's mouth was filled with a dark-colored smoke. "They've been poisoned!"

Before Burke could get up, a hard blow from something very heavy struck him on the back of his head. Burke slumped over to the floor. Something struck him again while he was down. This time Burke was hit in the ribs, and he was gasping for air.

The plane started leaning down and Burke couldn't get his balance to stand. Through blurred vision, he caught a glimpse of the pilot's face. "Ed...Edwards! What...what have you done?"

Dameon stood near the exit door with a parachute pack strapped around him. His hand held tightly onto his cane as he answered, "To quote, 'There's no price higher than a man's life. Nothing more valuable than living day to day'.

"This is your tribute, Burke Devlin. You have proven in word and in deed that what you value above all else is your own life. Thus, per your agreement with my master, he is collecting payment now! You are the tribute! Above all else and all others, YOU are what matters most to you. You have lived for yourself and your own selfish desires. Now the time has come for you to sacrifice what you love most! I bid you farewell. It will all be over soon, old friend. It's just a matter of time!"

With a quick reflex of his arm, Dameon released the exit-door lock and jumped from the plane. Rolling helplessly up the walkway as the plane picked up momentum, Burke struggled to grab something to brace himself. The rush of air from the open door pulled his body back against the seats, and he was unable to move. Within seconds, years of his life flashed inside of his mind's eye.

Burke saw visions of the past and the future: He saw people and places of the past, and memories of his time in prison. He saw what Victoria would look like walking down the aisle in her wedding dress. He saw the moment when they would hold their first child together. Burke even saw a glimpse of what they would look like when they were old.

Burke felt himself losing consciousness as a violent thrust threw him forward, causing instant darkness. With a loud crash of crunching metal and black, billowing smoke rising in the air, the plane lay in burning sections scattered in a remote clearing.

Dameon quickly ran to the wreckage of the plane. He wasted no time in finding the spot marked on his map that was given to him. About thirty paces from the crash site was an old abandoned mine shaft that was shantily boarded up. The shaft itself was about two hundred feet deep.

Dameon made his way through the gate. Using a crowbar from his backpack, he pried the boards open that covered the shaft opening, carefully laying them to the side. Knowing that he had to act quickly, he ran back to the crash site to search for Devlin's body.

Lying still and covered in bloodied bruises was Burke's lifeless body. Dameon lifted the body across the back of his shoulders and carried it toward the mine shaft entrance. With a quick push, Burke's limp body was dropped down inside. Dameon used a hammer and covered the shaft opening with the same boards he had placed to the side. As Dameon locked the gate behind him, he ran back toward the crash site. The fuel line quickly ignited and the plane erupted into a large ball of flame. Dameon fell to the ground from the force of the explosion. After dusting himself off, he quickly escaped into the woods as the wailing of sirens filled the air.

Dameon's work was done. He had performed his part in the petition that was given to him by his master.

There were no survivors. Burke's body was disposed of and out of sight, and the rest of the passengers would be burnt beyond recognition. Now there was one last task left to do: make a phone call to the petitioner, who was one of their own.

Three days later, Dameon found passage into a small town. After finding a phone booth nearby, he put some money in, and stood patiently as the phone rang. Through the receiver, a woman's voice asked, "Well, Dameon, did you hide the body? Did you follow the steps of my petition?"

Dameon spoke softly. "I did. All was done as your petition instructed me to do. Everything was done exactly as you wanted. Devlin's body will not be found. The other passengers will be unrecognizable. Victoria Winters will never know if Burke Devlin was actually killed or if he merely abandoned her. She will hold onto Devlin's memory, and this Barnabas Collins you mentioned will never own her love as long as she clings to hope that Burke is still alive. Denial and guilt over letting go of Devlin's memory should be enough to keep Victoria from ever falling in love with Barnabas Collins, no matter how hard he may try to take advantage of Burke's disappearance."

The woman laughed. "Excellent, Dameon. Our master will reward you handsomely for a job well done. I am making my final plans to once again enter the Collins mansion. They tried to destroy me once, but they won't succeed this time. Return home, Dameon. There is much work to do. Farewell, and good journey."

Dameon replied before hanging up the phone. "Thank you. Goodbye..." he smiled wickedly. "...Cassandra."

(I do not own the rights to "Dark Shadows." My fan fiction is written for the enjoyment of the reader.)


End file.
